


Little Ears & Big Mouths

by bansidhe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-06
Updated: 2010-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bansidhe/pseuds/bansidhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A new father quickly learns that his child invariably comes to the bathroom at precisely the times when he's in there, as if he needed company. The only way for this father to be certain of bathroom privacy is to shave at the gas station." (Bill Cosby)</p><p>John just wants to finish shaving and catch a nap: Sammy and Dean are busy being boys. Rated teen for naughty words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Ears & Big Mouths

**Author's Note:**

> Graciously beta'd by [Keysmash](http://archiveofourown.org/users/keysmash): Any remaining mistakes are due to me over-poking the work.

Having the boys along on a hunt means frequent stops, breaks every couple hours so Dean and Sammy don't go pinching each other or pulling hair, and most of all, no driving through the night -- so they stop more than John strictly likes, pulling the Impala into some roadside motel, praying for a room with two beds.

This time, it was a small motel in Bumfuck, Idaho -- and damn, he'd better remember not to use that name around little ears -- with only one bed, the full-size mattress technically large enough to let them sleep... That is, if John sleeps on his side, spooned against the kids, and can actually sleep through the boys' nightly bouts of sleep-kicking.

He gets a good look at himself in the mirror, naked to the waist in his jeans, the bags under his eyes huge and dark as he's lathering up to shave: Yeah. He looks a bit like death warmed over. Good thing the job's done, and Pastor Jim's the next stop for the summer. Sighing heavily, John does the math as he starts to shave -- It's almost a full 24 hours' drive back to Blue Earth if he were alone, which means it's going to stretch to four days with kids. Worse, he feels like he could sleep for a week, easy.

... Maybe the boys will let him grab a late morning nap if he lets them watch the TV on low.

Sammy's happy, over-excited shriek and repeats of "Dee! No! Deeeen!" from the other room is ear-splitting, the thumps of Dean's sneakers close on the kid's heels.

Shit. As long as he's hoping for impossible things, maybe it'll snow in July, too.

"Hey," John rumbles loudly, out of patience and nicking his cheek on the down-swipe. Damnit! "_Boys_. Stop running."

"Summanabits!" Sammy shrieks, his thirteen-month-sized run carrying him into the bathroom, wrapping his arms around John's leg and hiding his face in the denim.

John looks down at Sammy, then over at Dean -- Dean, who is lurking behind the doorway, his face a study in guilt. "...What was that, Sammy?"

Sammy just giggles, peering at Dean from around his father's legs: Sam's no help, but John thinks he's caught the gist anyway. He sets down the disposable Bic, crooking a finger at his eldest. "Dean? Care to explain that one?"

"Teevee?" Dean says, hopeful, and inches forward at the speed of molasses, but not slow enough that John has to do something about it.

"Nice try, but no. You can't say those words on television."

Dean winces, puts out his hands, and gets a small slap across the backs.

"Stop teaching your brother bad words -- Hell, stop cussing," John orders, belatedly realizing and regretting his word choice. "And no control of the radio for a week."

"Da-ad!"

"Wanna make it two?"

"No, sir."

"Fine. No more backtalk." John takes a deep breath, looks at the half-finished job on his face, and then gently pries Sammy off his thigh. "And go run around with your brother. _Outside_."

"Yessir," Dean says, and then kneels down some on the floor: John frowns, not sure what that has to do with playing outside 'til Sammy makes another happy sound and wraps his arms tight around Dean's neck, Dean hanging onto his younger brother's legs and piggybacking him out of the room.

John doesn't complain when the shrieking heads out the door, leaving it open: He just hotfoots over, aware he's half-naked, and yells at the boys to stick close before closing the door, taking care not to latch it. With any luck, he'll have time to finish his shave before they get bored again and still grab a nap.


End file.
